Myra Selby, Realm Dweller
by AnnaBolt45
Summary: Myra Selby, a very special wizard, finds herself in a situation where she has to choose which world to live in: her own, or Harry Potter's.
1. Prolouge

**_Disclaimer:_** I, in absolutely no way, own Harry Potter characters, creatures, locations, situations, or anything else relating to the Harry Potter stories. That all belongs to J.K. Rowling. I do, however, own Myra Selby and her mother, and anyone else mentioned in Myra's life. Those are all creations of my mind.

_**A/N:**_ Okay, this is my first fic idea that I never managed to put into words, and then it just came to me suddenly. To further explain the story a little better, Myra Selby is a normal girl from the time the first Harry Potter book was released in the U.S. Her mother reads it to her one night, and suddenly she is transported to another realm where she is English and Harry Potter is a real person. She turns out to be a wizard, and goes to Hogwarts. She's in the same year as Harry, and she becomes the fourth member to the trio, and goes on the same adventures as them. But, she is also still in the other realm as well, and everytime she goes to Harry's world, she is sleeping in her world. She goes to Hogwarts every night of the school year for seven years, and has to eventually choose between her world or Harry's world.

_**A/N**_: The time travelling plot is somewhat like the time travel in the Stravaganza series, if anyone's heard of those. This isn't necessarily considered a crossover, because none of the Stravaganza characters are involved in the plotline. Myra is, in a way, a stravagater, but that's not what they're called in my story. I call them realm dwellers, a type of extremely rare wizard who has two of the same body, one born in one realm and one born in the other. One or both of the bodies has to have magical blood, or they are not considered realm dwellers. One body may survive for years on it's own spirit, but when the spirit of one of the realm dweller's bodies travels to the other, the other spirit ceases to exist, and both bodies share the spirt. Myra's realms have switched times, so when it's light in her world, it's night in Harry's. She merely sleeps in one world, and is awake in the next one. I'm only explaining this because it may be a little confusing for some people throughout the story unless I explain it...

**_September 15__th__, 1998 _**

"Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived," whispered Wendy J. Selby, snuggling closer to her little girl. She enjoyed reading to her daughter, still a little new to the mothering of such a smart 11-year-old, she was at least happy she could make her child smile with words. Wendy's friend had suggested Harry Potter to her. She said it was a new book about a boy wizard, who was about the same age as Wendy's daughter. She said her children were loving it, and Wendy should try it on her little girl.

Myra Selby settled into her bed a little more. She saw the room swim about her, her vision becoming impaired as sleep took over her. Her eyes shut slowly, and she distantly felt her mother kiss her head and shut out the lights. As the door to her bedroom slid shut, Myra's imagination began to come up with an extraordinary dream. A dream that she would never forget as long as she lived…

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**_September 1__st, 1991_**

Myra was in her apartment. Well, not exactly, anyway. She looked about the room her dream had taken her to, and it looked a lot like her room at home. Except it was so different. The shape was off, and the size was larger than her tiny room in Apartment 3F in Chicago. The style was completely the same, though.

The clock on her bedside table was going off, and she fell off the bed as stars erupted from it. She watched it explode, totally in awe.

"It's like… magic," she whispered to herself. As she stood, walking towards the window that had never been there before, and found herself tripping over a suitcase. She examined it, not fully understanding what was going on. Suddenly, a voice called from somewhere in the apartment.

"Myra, time to wake up or your going to miss your train!" Myra heard her mother call. Myra got up and ran towards it, glad to finally hear something she recognized. She found her in the kitchen, and immediately wrapped her arms around her. Her mother hugged her back, a little confused.

"Hi, sweetie," she said, burying her face in her daughter's hair. "You're already up, good. So, are you excited for today?"

"What? What's going on, Mommy? I don't get what's happening," Myra said. She was scared, and had no idea what to do.

"Oh, you can't have forgotten already, can you?" Her mother smiled down at her lovingly. "You never were a morning person. Honey," she got down on her knees and looked directly at her daughter, "today you're going on the train to your new school. You're going to love it. Your father did."

Myra gasped. Her mother never talked about her father, ever. Myra knew that nothing was right, and started to back off. She ran back to her room, her mother calling after her. Locking the door behind her, Myra ran to the mirror.

Okay, she thought, staring at herself. I still look the same. Same curly red/brown hair, same chocolate brown and gold eyes, same freckles and pale skin. I'm still me. Then why is everything else different?

"Myra?" Her mother rapped on the door. "Myra, are you okay? Whether you want to or not, honey, you have to go today, okay? This is what you're meant to do. I'll have a breakfast sandwich waiting for you in the car, okay? But, get dressed, finish packing, brush your teeth and come out to the car, alright?"

Myra rose her head, realizing something. Her mother didn't sound the same.

Her mother's accent was English. She had sounded like that when she had been reading to her before she went to sleep. Then, in her head, she realized her inner thoughts were English as well.

She raced to the window, and saw the most wonderful view. Big Ben was right in front of her bedroom window.

She was in England. She lived in England. She was English.

She ran to the calendar hanging on her wall. She flipped to the front page. It was a calendar for the 1991-1992 year. Her dream took her back seven years? She should be four years old, shouldn't she? Wait, this was a dream. She was whatever the heck she wanted to be!

She turned back to the page the calendar was open to, and saw that it was the September page. It was untouched except for the first square. Today was September the first, then. On the square, in huge lettering, read the words "First day at Hogwarts!"

Myra's eyes grew wide.

Maybe this dream wasn't so bad after all.


	2. The Train Ride

**A/N: Okay, yet another disclaimer… I don't own Harry Potter. The words I put in this story are from the books sometimes, yes, but the words themselves belong to J.K. Rowling, who pwns all. I own only Myra and her world.**

Myra trotted through King's Cross Station, gripping the handle of the cart she was pushing tighter as she came to the platform her mother had discussed with her in the car: 9 ¾. But, as she approached it, she saw nothing but platforms 9 and 10. She became confused. She looked around her, hoping that maybe someone else would look just as lost as she was, and they could figure this out together.

"Well, there you go, boy. Platform nine - platform ten. Yours should be in the middle, but it looks as though they haven't built it yet, have they?" Myra heard from behind her. She turned to see a portly man with little to no neck smirking at a young boy with dark hair. She couldn't see the boy's face, but could tell from the triumphant look on the fat man's face that he enjoyed making the kid unhappy. Best to stay away from him, then, Myra thought to herself.

"Have a good term," the man said, mocking the boy's confusion. He turned on his heel, and walked away. The boy turned as well, and walked with his head down, smacking into Myra.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he said, startled. He had bright green eyes that shone more than the emeralds on Myra's mother's favorite necklace, although they were covered by a pair of broken circular glasses. His jet-black hair went in twenty different directions, including in his face. He had a skinny frame, and wore clothes far too big for him.

Myra blushed. This boy was cute.

"No, it's my fault. I saw you coming and didn't move," Myra said, gathering her books and placing them back on her trunk. She turned back to the boy, and he dived quickly. Myra slid to the side, and watched as the kid grabbed something off the floor that was nearly stepped on. He popped back up quickly, and held out the object to Myra. It was a medium length wooden object with a crooked tip and dark, intricate patterns swirling down to the handle, which was the color of her hair: her new wand.

"Wouldn't want to lose that," the boy said as she took the wand, smiling. "You're wizard too, then?"

"Yes," Myra said.

"Well, you're the only other one I've met today. I wouldn't guess you know how to get to the platform?"

"No idea," Myra whispered, looking up and down the brick wall in front of her. The boy stood next to her, looking for some sort of way in. He scrunched up his face, and walked to the nearest guard he could find. Myra followed.

"Excuse me," the boy said, tapping on the man's arm. The man looked down at him. "I was wondering where the train to the Hogwarts school is."

"Hogwarts?" asked the man curtly, apparently not liking being asked questions he didn't know the answer to. "What is Hogwarts? What are you talking about, kid? Can you tell me where it is?"

The boy shook his head, looking at his feet, blushing. Myra spoke up as the guard's face became stony and cold. "How about a train that leaves at 11 o'clock? Is there one?"

"No," the man snapped. "Now, if you kids don't mind, I'm going to go find people who have actual questions for me." And he walked off without another word.

"Well, we tried," the boy said as they walked back to their carts. Just as he was about to introduce himself, however, he heard a word he recognized.

"- packed with Muggles, of course -"

The boy tapped Myra's shoulder. "Come on, they might know what to do."

Myra followed the boy, and they walked up to a family of strangely dressed people, all with flaming red hair. A slightly plump woman was holding the hand of an irritable-looking girl, who could not have been but a year younger than Myra. She was also with four boys, and could guess she was their mother. They followed the family, and stopped to hear what they were saying.

"Alright, Percy, you first," said the woman, and an older looking boy walked out from the group, turning his cart to face the brick barrier between platforms nine and ten. He started to walk briskly towards the wall, then broke into a run - and disappeared.

Myra rubbed her eyes, sure she had missed something.

"Fred, you next," the woman said, gesturing towards a stocky looking boy and his identical twin next to him. It was almost impossible for Myra to tell them apart.

Apparently, it was hard for the mother too, because before the boy walked to the wall, he said, "I'm not Fred, I'm George. Honestly woman, you call yourself our mother. Can't you tell I'm George?"

"Sorry George, dear," the woman said, smiling apologetically. The boy walked out of the group, his twin at his heels.

Before he ran at the wall, he turned to his mother with a devilish grin, and said, "Only joking, I am Fred!" With that, he ran at the same brick wall, and as his cart hit it, he vanished without a trace. His twin followed suit.

Myra blinked, and the boy she was with was suddenly walking towards the woman. Myra followed him, matching his pace.

"Excuse me," the boy said. The woman turned, her last son pausing to watch the conversation.

"Hello, dears," she said. She noticed their trunks. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."

Myra looked at the boy who was watching them. He was tall and gangly, with a long nose and a ton of freckles. He smiled sheepishly at her, and she waved a little at him.

"Well, we… we don't know… how…"

"How to get onto the platform?" she finished for him. They nodded together. She smiled.

"Not to worry. All you have to do is walk straight at the wall between the platforms. Best to do it at a bit of a run, if you're nervous. Just, don't be scared you'll crash. You won't, trust me," she said, smiling again. "Why don't you go on ahead before Ron?"

"Erm, okay," the boy said, and looked to Myra. "Ladies first?"

Myra gulped. This was gonna be tough. She walked to the spot where the other boys had started running, and gripped the handle to her cart even harder, fearing gripping so hard she would break it off. She started to tiptoe tentatively, her eyes shut tight. She opened one eye and glanced at the boy with the green eyes. They sparkled kindly as he smiled hugely at her and gave her a thumbs up. She braved herself, and ran.

Her eyes shut as her cart hit the wall, preparing for the inevitable crash that would make her feel like an idiot and wake her up from this weird but wonderful dream… but it never came She opened her eyes again as she heard shouts and felt steam on her face. In front of her was a huge, maroon train, bigger and longer than any she had seen in her life. She walked towards it a little, taking in the magnificent sight. She suddenly felt another presence next to her, and found the boy by her side, equally enchanted.

"Wow," he uttered, his air taken by the beauty of the object before him. They both looked at the large iron archway above them, seeing the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. They made it just in time.

They smiled at each other, and as Myra walked on, she saw that the boy was no longer with her. She had lost him. Oh well, she thought, I'm bound to see him again sometime. She unloaded her cart and carried her things onto the train. She walked down a long passageway, almost getting knocked over by a plump boy running after a toad. As she reached the end, she found an empty compartment to sit in, and tried to lift her trunk into it. She didn't know what was in it, and found it to be much heavier than she realized. Without warning, it slid out of her hand and dropped painfully onto her foot.

"Need some help?" said a voice. It was one of the red-headed twins she had seen earlier.

"Uh, yeah, thanks," she muttered sheepishly, standing back and getting the blood to flow back in her toes. The boy entered the compartment, smiling at her, and tried to lift the trunk. He got it halfway off the ground, then dropped it.

"Hey Fred, come help me out!" he yelled, and his twin entered the compartment, smiling at Myra as well. Together they lifted the heavy trunk into the air, and dropped it into the holders above their heads. High-fiving each other, they turned back to Myra.

"Thanks for the help," Myra said, smiling at them. "I'm Myra by the way. Myra Selby."

"I'm Fred, and this is George," said one of the twins. She knew it would be a while before she got them correct, they looked so similar.

Suddenly, the compartment opened again, and in came the boy Myra had met in the station. "I was wondering where you had gotten to," he said to her, smiling brightly. "I lost you through the crowd."

"Could you use a bit of help, too?" one of the twins asked politely.

"Sure, thanks," the boy said. The twins and the boy lifted the trunk, and the boy wiped his had over his forehead, exposing a lightning bolt scar.

"Good lord, are you…" said the twins together, looking to each other, then back to the boy. Myra couldn't help but stare, too. This was… no, he couldn't be…

"Am I what?" the boy asked, looking between the three of them.

"Harry Potter," said the twins. Myra's mouth opened slightly. Oh, my God, she thought.

"Oh, him," the boy stuttered. "I mean, yes, I am."

The boys beamed, and opened their mouths to speak when their mother called to them. They left reluctantly. Myra and the boy were left alone.

"Hello? Anybody there?" the boy said, waving his hand in front of her face. She blinked and closed her mouth.

"You're… Harry Potter?" she whispered, unable to control herself.

"Yeah," he said.

Myra blanked. She was meeting fictional character. The very character the book her mother was reading to her was about. She stared for another second, then smiled cheerfully.

"Wow,' she said, shaking Harry's hand. "I never would have guessed! And we've spent all this time talking already we never properly introduced ourselves. I'm Myra Selby."

"Nice to meet you," Harry said. He sat, and Myra sat across from him.

"So, what do you know about Hogwarts?" Harry asked, desperate for answers to the questions he had been asking for the past month.

"Sadly, absolutely nothing. My mother's not a witch, she's a… what do you call a non-magical person?"

"A Muggle."

"Right, thanks. Well, she's a Muggle, and my father was a wizard. But he died a long time ago," Myra said, recalling the information she had gathered while looking about the apartment earlier.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Well, I was raised by Muggles too, although I bet your mum was a lot nicer. You seem to be, anyway," he said. She blushed, thanking him under her breath.

The door to the compartment opened again, and the youngest red-headed boy popped his head in, looking between Harry and Myra. "Hi. Can I join you two? Everywhere else is full."

"Of course," Harry and Myra said together. The boy tucked his trunk into the holders above their heads, then sat down next to Myra. He kept his gaze towards the window. Myra looked at him.

"You have something on your nose, you know," she said, pointing to the tip of his long nose. The boy thanked her for telling him and wiped his nose. The mark didn't go away. At this, the twins entered again.

"Ron, we're going to the very back. Lee's got a tarantula, and we've got to see it," said one of the twins.

"Right, okay," said Ron dully. The twins turned to Harry, smiling.

"Harry," one of them said, "we've forgotten to introduce ourselves! I'm George, and this is Fred. We'll be going now, but we'll see you later, okay? You too, Myra," they said, smiling at her.

"Thanks Fred, George," she said, nodding at them. The winked at her and turned for the door. When it shut, Ron looked at Harry.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron asked quickly, the words practically chasing each other out of his mouth.

Harry didn't respond. He merely smiled and lifted his bangs, revealing his lightning scar once again. It took Myra's breath away momentarily.

"So, that's where You-Know-Who…"

"Yep," Harry said, nodding.

"Wicked," Ron said, smiling at Harry. He then turned to Myra. "And who might you be?"

"Myra Selby," Myra said, extending her hand. Ron shook it.

"I've never heard of you before," Ron said, raising an eyebrow. "Where are you from?"

"To be honest, I don't really know," Myra said. She then clapped a hand over her mouth, realizing her stupid tendency to talk without thinking was getting the better of her again. She thought quickly. "Before my father died, we moved so many places because of his job that we sort of lost track. I think we live in London, though." She thanked God that she remembered the Big Ben outside her bedroom window this morning.

"Cool," Ron said, smiling. "Well, I'm Ron Weasley." He turned to Harry again. "So, I heard you live with Muggles. How is it?"

"Absolutely horrid," Harry said, talking to this new boy as if he had known him his whole life. Myra marveled at his ability to talk to people, completely unafraid. She guessed it was because he had grown up in a world where anything that came out of his mouth was disregarded, and it was nice to be able to speak and have someone listen. Myra knew how that went when her mother came home from a bad day at work.

A sudden hooting noise came from Harry's left side. Myra looked over, and noticed a snowy white owl. She couldn't believe she'd missed it.

"Who's this?" Myra asked, going to the cage and looking at the beautiful bird. She cocked her head at Myra, and looked as though she were smiling.

"Hedwig," Harry answered. "I got her recently. She's very sweet, although she's kind of rude to other people."

"Hedwig," Myra repeated. She stuck her finger in between the bars of the cage, and the owl came over and nibbled her finger affectionately.

"Wow," Harry said in awe, opening the cage. Hedwig flew out and onto Myra's shoulder. Myra pet her gently. "I've never seen her take to someone like that. Even when I got her, she tried to nip off some people's fingers."

Myra giggled. The bird nipped her ear lightly, and Myra kissed her delicate beak. The owl hooted gratefully, nudging Myra's head with her own. The bird moved into Myra's lap, and Myra continued to pet her.

"That's so cool," Ron said, smiling. "All I have is this rat."

Ron pulled out a hairy object from his jacket pocket, and a brown and gray rat appeared, sleeping on his palm. Ron put him back. "His name's Scabbers. Everyone in my family has had him at some point."

Myra and Harry laughed at how the rat just slid back in his pocket. Ron blushed bright pink. He asked Harry more about his life with Muggles, and while they spoke, Myra cuddled Hedwig some more. Hedwig was really taking to her. If she had been in this dream before she was about to leave for Hogwarts, she would have bought an owl. She hooted back to the owl, and every so often, Myra peeked out of the corner of her eye to see Harry watching her and the bird, looking in satisfaction.

After maybe an hour, an elderly woman with a cart of candies and treats appeared in the door.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?"

Harry jumped up, and Myra just went about putting Hedwig back in her cage. Ron dug in his pocket for his own food, and Harry came back in less than a minute, his arms laden with about 6 or 7 of every treat on the cart. The woman left, and Harry dumped the food onto the floor, sitting cross-legged and digging in. He invited Myra to sit next to him and join him. She obliged, sitting and taking something called a Cauldron Cake. Ron pulled out his sandwiches. They looked absolutely disgusting. Myra thought it resembled a package of vomit.

"Ron, what is that?" she asked, not even getting near it.

"Corned beef," Ron said, sighing. Harry snatched the sandwiches out of Ron's hands and threw them out the window, replacing them with a Chocolate Frog.

"Myra and I can't eat all this by ourselves, you know," Harry said. Myra's heart skipped a little at hearing Harry say her name. Ron shrugged and fell to the floor as well, and all three soon engaged in jelly bean wars with the Bertie Bott's beans. Myra grabbed a bag before it could be wasted, actually wanting to try them. She opened it, and pulled out a tan colored one. She popped it into her mouth, and sighed, thanking God it wasn't a disgusting flavor. As the flavor of toffee spread over her tongue, she sighed. Harry reached his fingers into the bag in her hands, popped his into his mouth, and spat it out the window.

"Blech! Tuna fish!"

"Really?" Myra asked in disbelief. He nodded, grabbing a chocolate frog to get out the taste. She laughed, and Harry chucked the package at her head. She dodged it cleanly. But, it hit something, for a voice said "Ow!" from behind her.

The boy who was chasing his toad earlier peeped his head in, looking around nervously. "Has anyone seen a toad? I've lost mine."

"No, sorry. I haven't seen anything," said Harry, shrugging.

"He'll turn up, though. Don't worry," Myra said with a smile.

"Yeah. Just keep looking. He can't have gone far," Ron muttered around the Pumpkin Pasty in his mouth.

The boy looked nervous, and his head slid out slowly. Ron shrugged, and pulled Scabbers out of his pocket.

"Goodness, he's pathetic," Ron said. He plopped the rat onto the seat next to him, and then smiled. "Fred and George gave me a spell to turn him yellow. I haven't tried it yet. You guys wanna test it out with me?"

Myra and Harry both grinned widely and nodded. As Ron pulled out his old, worn out wand, Myra looked at the boys, smiling at them. They really were nice guys. They had become good friends in a short space of time, it seemed. This all seemed to real to be a dream… Myra only remembered that it was. She had almost forgotten. She was amazed she hadn't woken up yet.

"Myra, what is it?" Harry asked, looking into Myra's suddenly sad eyes.

She shook her head, giving him a small smile. "It's nothing… I just never would have expected to have friends like you guys. It feels like I'm dreaming."

Both Ron and Harry gaped at her. She had just called them her friends. For Ron, this was unusual because he never made friends this quickly. For Harry, this was fantastic, because he'd never had a friend before, and Myra was such a great girl, and he really liked being her friend.

Before either of them could say something to her, however, the door to the compartment opened again, and a girl with bushy light brown hair, large front teeth and a bossy look about her entered.

"Have any of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one," she said, looking around at the trash littering the compartment and the faces of the three new friends sitting on the floor.

"He already came in here, and we already told him no," Ron said, and went about getting ready to cast his spell on Scabbers. The girl in the door gasped.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it then."

Ron shot her a look of slight dislike and turned back to his rat. He raised his wand, and as he cast the spell, he swung it around lazily.

_Sunshine, Daisies, Butter Mellow_

_Turn this stupid fat rat yellow!_

Nothing happened. Harry chuckled, Myra sighed, and Ron blushed. The girl in the doorway snorted.

"Are you sure that's a real spell? Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tested out some more basic spells, and they've all worked for me. I've also memorized every book I could about wizardry and such before the start of term. I was so shocked when I got my letter. I come from a Muggle family, so I was ever so pleased, because I finally had a reason for being different from my family members. But, then again, what's so wrong with being different? I'm Hermione Granger by the way. And you three are?"

The girl said this faster than anybody Myra had ever met in her life. She sounded like a walking book.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron said irritably, breaking the awkward silence. Hermione turned expectantly towards Myra.

"I'm Myra Selby," Myra said, waving a little. Hermione smiled hugely at her, then turned her head to Harry.

"Harry Potter," Harry said, expecting a riot from this girl, too. She gaped at him.

"Are you really?" Harry nodded. "Well, I know all about you! You're in three different books that I've memorized! It's so amazing that you're going to be in my year! Well, I better go help Neville look for his toad. You might want to get your robes on. I expect us to be arriving soon. Bye!"

And with that, the girl left quickly. Harry, Myra, and Ron all stared after her.

"Okay, new rule," Ron said. Harry and Myra turned to him. "No more than one word a second. I can no longer register more than that. Understood?"

Harry laughed when Myra imitated a soldier, standing at attention with her hand in a salute, shouting "Sir, yes sir!"

As Harry got up, the door slid open again. Ron opened his mouth to shout about not having seen Neville's bloody toad, when he caught sight of who entered.

A pale boy with white-blonde hair and steely grey eyes walking, followed by two heavyset boys who looked like a cross between gorillas and Harry's cousin Dudley Dursley. The skinny blonde boy smirked at Ron, glanced at Myra, and then stared directly at Harry.

"Is it true?" he asked in a drawl that made Myra's blood boil and spine tingle. She instantly disliked this boy. "They're saying on the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. You're him, then?" He nodded at Harry.

Harry frowned. "Yes," he quipped, short and hard as a whip. Myra flinched at just that word, not having seen Harry angry in the couple hours she'd known him. It was a scary thing to behold. He was flicking his eyes from one of the boy's bodyguards to the other. The pale boy noticed.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and Goyle," he said. Each one of them grunted in response. "And I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

Ron snickered, trying to cover it up as a cough. Draco Malfoy turned his penetrating gaze on him. Myra noticed Ron's eyes grow hard.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask yours. Red hair, hand-me-down clothes, and too many freckles. You're a Weasley, it's obvious."

As those words left his mouth, Draco Malfoy looked at Myra. His eyes grew wide, seeing the pretty girl before him. He may hate the Weasley boy because of his family, but this girl was not a Weasley. He let his eyes wander over Myra's mahogany hair, brown eyes and slightly freckled and sunburned cheeks. Myra didn't notice, but as Draco Malfoy looked Myra over, Harry growled slightly, and Ron gripped his wand tighter. Ron cared about Myra. In the few short hours they'd known each other, she was already a better friend than any in his life, and he didn't like how Malfoy looked at her. Harry's reaction can only be described in three small words: He was jealous. Sadly, however, he wouldn't realize this until someday when he understood girls and love a little better. Anyway, Malfoy was looking over Myra, and connections formed in his head: this girl was no Weasley. She was clean and maybe pureblood. She was a pretty, young girl, and he was a handsome young boy. **(A/N: Can someone say power couple? I think not. Boo Malfoy! You may be hot in the movies, but in the books you suck!)**

"Well, hello there. I don't recognize you at all. And your name would be?"

Myra swallowed hard, her light gaze becoming a penetrating glare. "Myra Selby."

"Selby? As in daughter of Charlie and Wendy Selby?"

Myra gaped for about half a second, then her glare returned. "Yes," she spat through her teeth. She hated the mention of her father's name. It brought back sad memories. "I'm sorry I didn't order your background check, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy grinned. "Well, I've studied your father's work extensively. A pleasure and an honor it is, Ms. Selby." Mafoy grabbed her hand almost forcefully and bent to kiss it. Myra wrenched her hand out of his grasp, loving the shocked expression on his face. She moved to sit next to Harry, crossing her arms as he moved his left arm protectively over her shoulders. A girl had never turned down a kiss from Draco Malfoy. NEVER.

"Anyway," Malfoy said, brushing his robes off, turning to Harry again, "You'll find that some wizarding families are better than other's, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort." He glared at Ron, who glared right back. "I can help you there."

He held out a hand for Harry to shake. Harry glared at it, as if daring it to touch him. Myra felt him trembling with anger at what Malfoy had said about 'the wrong sort'. She knew he meant Ron and possibly herself. She gripped Harry's right wrist tightly, giving him a look that said "Keep yourself together."

Harry gritted his teeth, and said "I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks."

And with that, Malfoy glared, spun, and stalked from the compartment. His cronies followed him. Ron laughed at the look on Malfoy's face as Myra looked at Harry.

"Are you okay?" she asked. Ron stopped laughing as he noticed the anger in Harry's eyes. As Myra's brown and gold gaze hit Harry's emerald one, however, he relaxed.

"I'm fine," he said, smiling at his friend. "Just got a little riled up about what he considered the wrong sort. You guys are anything but."

"Blimey, Myra, you didn't tell me you were realted to Charlie Selby!" Ron exclaimed.

"Why does it matter?"

"You're the daughter of the inventor of one of the wizarding world's fastest racing brooms, and you ask why it matters?" Ron smacked his forehead, knocking himself backward a little.

Myra never knew about her father's job... she guessed she did now.

Myra smiled, then sighed and stood. "Well, we might as well get our robes on. I bet that Hermione girl was right. We should be there soon."

"Okay, but how are we gonna go about that?" Ron inquired. "You're a girl, and we're boys. We can change in front of each other. What are you gonna do?"

Myra smirked. "When I pull my robes out, cover your eyes and count to thirty."

"What?" Harry asked, but Myra reached for her robes.

"Start counting," she said, The boys covered their eyes and counted slowly to thirty. Myra didn't have any trouble changing out of her Muggle clothes into her robes. They fit quite comfortably. She was finished before they even hit 25. When the boys uncovered their eyes, they smiled at Myra in her robes, then she played with Hedwig again as they changed. Soon, all three of them were dressed in black, and the train stopped. They all shoved the trash and spare food into their bags, leaving them on the train to be taken care of.

As they jumped off, Harry heard a familiar, gruff voice call out to them.

"Firs' years, this way! Come on, yer bunch a youngins' hurry it up!"

A giant man with a scraggly beard walked towards Myra, Ron, and Harry. Harry smiled at him.

"Hi Hagrid," Harry said. The giant smiled back at him, before shoving all three of them into a line with the rest of the first years. The all were separated into boats by three's, and of course, Myra, Ron, and Harry grabbed the first empty boat they saw.

As they moved through the water magically, Myra watched as the school came into view. Her first glimpse of Hogwarts castle was that it was much larger than she would have guessed. She gasped in awe as Ron and Harry stopped and stared. All three watched with fascination as they stopped in front of the gate to the school, and Hagrid knocked on the large wooden door three times.

**A/N: Expect all the chapters to be this long. Sorry, but that's how it goes with this story. I would love some reviews, guys. I feel like you are hating on this story, and this is my favorite one to write. Please review. Please?**


	3. The Sorting

**A/N:** I'm glad to see that my favorite story is finally getting some reviews! Thanks so much to krazy and Alexis Atsuhiko! This one's for you guys.

A tall, black haired woman with robes as green as Harry's eyes walked out. She had a high, pointed hat and a stern look about her. She reminded Myra of the Wicked Witch of the West from the Wizard of Oz, although she didn't look incredibly evil. Just stern.

"The firs' years, Professor," Hagrid said, sweeping his large hand over the group of students. A few people ducked for fear of getting smacked.

"Thank you very much Hagrid. I'll take them from here," said the professor, and as she turned and walked into the school, Myra, Harry, and Ron found themselves being pushed forward with the rest of the group. Myra could hear voices behind a large door, but instead of heading that way, the group was filed into a small chamber off of another corridor. Myra felt suddenly claustrophobic. She tried to breathe, but found it to be rather difficult. She started to breathe short breaths, and found herself feeling like she was trapped in a small box not big enough for a ferret.

A sudden rough, calloused hand gripped hers. She turned to see Harry staring at her through his broken glasses.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concern dripping from every word. Myra nodded, concentrating on the feeling of Harry's hand in hers rather than the tight space she was enclosed in. Harry squeezed her hand lightly, not thinking of letting go. The professor spoke.

"Hello, first years. My name is Professor McGonagall. Welcome to Hogwarts. In a few moments you will be directed into the Great Hall, but before you take your seats, you will be sorted into your houses. Sorting is extremely important because while you are here, your house will be like your family. You will have classes with the students in your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and you will spend your free time in your house common room. The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has it's own remarkable history, and has produced outstanding witches and wizards. There is also the subject of house points. Any triumphs will earn you points, and any rule-breaking will cause them to be deducted. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup. The sorting will begin momentarily. I will be stepping away for a moment to prepare the Great Hall for your arrival. I suggest you smarten yourselves up."

As Professor McGonagall exited the room, Myra noticed her dark eyes linger on Neville's cloak, which was fastened wrong, and the smudge that was still clearly on Ron's nose. When the door closed behind her, Myra noticed Harry try to flatten his hair with his other hand, still holding tightly to Myra's with his left. Myra turned her attention to Ron, who was straightening his too short robes a little. She licked her left thumb and rubbed at the spot on his nose.

"Ew! Myra, uncalled for!" he protested as her smooth thumb grated rather harshly at the little smudge.

"Well, would you like to be known as the red-headed boy who got sorted with a black thing on his nose?" Myra said, pulling her thumb away. The spot was gone finally.

"Gosh, you sound like my mum… Harry, why are you holding Myra's hand?" Ron asked, glancing down at their clasping hands.

Harry shrugged. "She was hyperventilating a little, so I held her hand to calm her down. She's still a little nervous, I guess," Harry said as though Myra weren't there. Oh, well, she thought. He's right, I am nervous.

"By the way, how do you get sorted, exactly?" Harry asked Ron.

Ron thought for a moment. "Well, Fred said it was some sort of test that involved a lot of pain, but I think he might have been joking." Ron didn't look so sure. Myra noticed him gulp on the word 'pain.'

She looked to Harry, and literally saw his face get paler. She squeezed his hand a little, and he looked at her, shock and slight terror written on every inch of his face. Myra smiled at him reassuringly.

"I'm sure they were just teasing Ron, Harry. If they put us through any kind of test that involved pain, I would not be here. We'll be fine," Myra said. Harry's face lightened a little, and he smiled back as best he could, when suddenly the door swung open again. The professor had returned.

"We're ready for you. Come along."

As the children were filed out of the room, Myra swallowed a huge gulp of air, breathing heavily. She released Harry's hand and almost collapsed outside the door. Professor McGonagall walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright, dear?" said the woman, looking at Myra with the smallest hint of worry.

Myra nodded. "I'm claustrophobic," she replied. "I don't do well in tight spaces, and while we were in that room it was really hard for me to breathe. Sorry."

Professor McGonagall nodded slightly, standing again. "Don't apologize, dear girl. It was a small matter, and we'll try not to let it happen again." The Professor moved back to the front of the group, and as the last few pairs of eyes left her, Myra felt two strong pairs of hands pull her up.

"You okay, Myra?" Ron asked, looking at her anxiously.

"Fine, Ron," she said, coming back to herself and straightening her robes. "Now, let's go get sorted, shall we?"

She walked forward, and Ron and Harry exchanged a glance before following. They ended up in the back of the group, standing in between four tables, each filled with students wearing different colored badges. Myra looked over to a table, and to her surprise and delight saw the Weasley twins. She waved at them, and they winked at her, smiling. Myra turned her attention back to the front of the room, where Professor McGonagall had set up a four-legged stool. Atop it, she placed a tattered, dirty, old pointed hat. Myra looked at it, cocking her head to the side. She noticed Ron and Harry looking at it oddly too.

What is it supposed to do? It looks like an old hat, Myra thought, until the hat opened up at the brim, almost like a mouth, and started to sing as the whole Great Hall went still.

_"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong at Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The room cheered and shouted as the song came to an end. The Sorting Hat bowed to each of the four tables, then became still. Myra clapped slightly, as Ron clapped a hand to his forehead.

"So all we have to do is put on the hat? I'll kill Fred…"

Myra giggled as Professor McGonagall pulled out a scroll of parchment. She unrolled it. She cleared her throat and the Great Hall became silent again.

"When I call your name, you will come forth, put the hat on, and sit on the stool to await being sorted into your house." She read the first name aloud. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A short girl with blonde pigtails scurried to the front, nervously placing the hat on her head as she sat. The Great Hall sat still, waiting with baited breath.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat, and the table to the right cheered enthusiastically as the girl sat down with the rest of the Hufflepuff students.

"Bones, Susan!" called Professor McGonagall. Another girl went up, and as the hat touched her head, it shouted "HUFFLEPUFF!" again, and Susan went and sat with Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The Ravenclaw table cheered excitedly. Terry joined the students, shaking hands as he sat.

A girl named Mandy Brocklehurst was sorted into Ravenclaw as well, and then another girl named Lavender Brown was the first to be sorted as a Gryffindor. The Gryffindors cheered louder than anyone, Myra noticed.

"Bulstrode, Millicent!" called Professor McGonagall, and a pudgy girl with a haughty face walked up, and the hat was only on her for a second as it shouted "SLYTHERIN!"

The Slytherins cheered. Myra looked at them, and just from that one glance she could tell they were not a group she wanted to mingle with. She felt slightly queasy as the professor went down the list getting closer and closer to her name.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Finnegan, Seamus!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Gorenflo, Anna!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione ran up to the stool and jammed the hat on her head eagerly. Myra stood there, watching intently as the hat made its decision.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Myra never would have guessed. She would have figured Ravenclaw, honestly. She glanced at Harry, and noticed a fine sheen of sweat on his brow. She poked his arm, and saw nothing but nervousness in his piercing green eyes.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I'm nervous as anything," he whispered. She smiled a little.

"Me, too."

"Longbottom, Neville!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Malfoy, Draco!"

Myra watched as Malfoy strode up to the stool. The hat was barely on his head a second when it simply shouted, "SLYTHERIN!" Myra rolled her eyes. I never would have thought, she thought sarcastically, watching as Malfoy slid into a seat at the howling Slytherin table.

"Martin, Erik!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Patil, Parvarti!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Patil, Padma!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Potter, Harry!"

Immediately, whispers could be heard through all of the Great Hall. Harry looked over at Myra and Ron. Myra squeezed his wrist gently while Ron gave him a tentative thumbs up. He walked over slowly, sat down, and pulled the hat on. There was silence for what seemed like hours, before the hat spoke in a low voice.

"Hmm, difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh, my goodness yes - and a nice thirst to prove yourself… So where shall I put you?"

Myra watched as Harry quivered a little under the hat. She looked to Ron, who looked back with scared eyes. She glanced at the twins, who stared eagerly at Harry. She guessed this wasn't a regular occurrence. Even the professors were watching in awe. Myra crossed her fingers, praying for Harry not to be in Slytherin.

Almost as if the hat read her mind, it spoke again. "Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You could be great, you know. It's all here, in your head. And Slytherin could help you on the way to greatness, there's no doubt about that, no?"

Harry's hands gripped the stool hard. Myra could distinctly see him mouth the words "Not Slytherin."

"Well," said the hat in a contemplative voice, "if you're sure - better be… GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table shouted and whooped and yelled. Harry set the hat down on the stool, giving Myra and Ron a thumbs up on his way over. The twins began a victory chant, shouting "WE GOT POTTER! WE GOT POTTER!" Myra smiled back at Harry, hoping for the same thing as him: to not be in Slytherin.

A few more names were called, and Myra felt her palms grow sweaty. A few more minutes, and she would be up there, a hat on her head. All she could hope was that it shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" and not "This is no wizard! Send her back home!"

"Saunders, Maggie!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Selby, Maryanne!" **(A/N**: **Yeah, I was listening to "Butterfly in Reverse" by the Counting Crows, and decided to make Myra her nickname. I think it works, though, don't you?)**

Myra gulped. Ron patted her shoulder as she walked up. Professor McGonagall smiled a little, offering her the chair. She sat, and slowly put the hat on. Once again, just like with Harry, it fell silent for a moment. She then listened as the hat did something it hadn't done all night: it gasped.

"No… You are - no…" It seemed utterly speechless. Myra was about to take it off and say there must have been a mistake, when it spoke again. "There's so much here yet to unlock, dear Myra. So much you know not, but soon will… So where shall I put you?"

Myra looked directly at Harry. He was staring in total awe, looking her dead in the eye. Suddenly, the hat drew a long breath, and screamed…

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Myra jumped off the stool, and ran to the loudly cheering Gryffindor table. She sat next to Hermione and across from Harry, who was cheering by far the loudest. As Myra looked to the Slytherin group, she saw Malfoy look a little dejected. Her attention was directed elsewhere, however, when both Fred and George ran up and squeezed her around the middle. She struggled to breathe, and was released after a minute. When the cheers died down, Professor McGonagall called the next few names. Finally, she reached Ron.

"Weasley, Ronald!"

Ron shook as he approached the stool, and sat as the hat fell upon his head.

"Ha!" laughed the hat. "Another Weasley! I know just what to do with you. GRYFFINDOR!"

Ron breathed a sigh of relief and ran to join Myra and Harry, sitting next to the latter. Two more children were left to be sorted.

"Workcuff, Brianna!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Zabini, Blaise!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

As this last boy was sorted and sat down, Professor McGonagall took the hat away. Soon, the headmaster (Myra remembered his name was Dumbledore from the Chocolate Frog card Harry got on the train) stood up, raising his arms to the children.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Now, before we begin the feast, I would like to say a few words. Here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

Harry and Myra looked slightly dumbfounded as everyone else clapped and cheered. Myra brought her hands together a few times, but didn't know whether to laugh or not. But that matter faded as huge plates of food magically appeared before them. Myra was shocked, but delighted, and piled a bit of mashed potatoes onto her plate. Harry started to have a go at everything he could. Myra realized that he probably barely ate at his home in the Muggle world, so he was taking ever opportunity he could at having some sort of food source.

As she dug into the chicken she put on her plate, she noticed Ron grab at a chicken wing on a platter. As he did this, however, a head suddenly popped through the center, causing Ron to drop his chicken and shout in surprise. The head was transparent, but had hair and eyes and a nose and a mouth. Myra had never seen a real ghost before.

"Hello!" the ghost said cheerfully to Ron. Ron waved a little. "How are you? Welcome to Gryffindor!"

Myra followed the ghost's eyes, watching as about ten other ghosts entered the room, floating gracefully through the walls. The ghost glided out from their table, and Ron's older brother Percy waved at him.

"Hello, Sir Nicholas! Have a nice summer?"

"Dismal," Sir Nicholas replied, turning back to Percy. "Once again, my request to join the Headless Hunt has been denied!"

Ron gasped. "I know you! You're Nearly Headless Nick!"

Nicholas turned on him, staring Ron down. "I prefer Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington of Gryffindor Tower, or just Sir Nicholas if you don't mind."

"Nearly headless?" Myra asked, swallowing a mound of potatoes.

Hermione joined in. "How can you be nearly headless?"

"Like this," Nick said, and tugged on his left ear. Hermione screeched, Ron almost vomited, Harry turned away and Myra just flinched, leaning far back in her seat. Nick's head was almost completely severed off. It was obvious someone had tried to behead him but couldn't get the job done. Nick flipped his head back on, smiled at the children, and floated away.

About an hour later, when everyone had finished with the dinner, all the plates were cleared and replaced with desserts of all kinds. Myra placed a small strawberry shortcake onto her plate, picking the strawberry off and slicing it, then placing it back. Harry watched her in amusement.

"Why'd you do that?" he asked, biting into his own treacle tart. **(A/N: I have had treacle. It's amazing! Really sweet though. Just saying.)**

"It's what my dad always did when he had a strawberry on his food," Myra said, reminiscing of summer days with her father. She thought back to her home in Chicago, wondering if she would ever wake up and what her mother would think if she didn't. She shivered, and brought her mind back to the people in front of her.

Harry smiled at her. "You're really different, you realize that, right?"

Myra giggled. "That's what my father said to me all the time. He always would say 'Myra, you may be different, but don't let anyone say that it's a bad thing. It's who you are, and nobody else is the wiser.'" Myra bit into her shortcake on the last word. Harry laughed.

"Your father was wise," he said. "Hey, also… why didn't you mention your name before?"

"What, my last name?" she inquired, remembering Ron's reaction to her father's history.

"No, your first. You never mentioned that your name was Maryanne."

Ron looked over at this. "Yeah, I was wondering about that, too."

Myra shrugged. "So, my first name is Maryanne. Your point?"

"Why didn't you say anything?" Harry asked.

"Never came to mind, and never entered the conversation. I don't really like how long my first name is, so I choose to go by Myra instead. It's prettier, and it's shorter."

Harry and Ron shrugged. They continued to talk about their families with the other kids at the table. Suddenly, Harry's gaze wondered, and he shouted in surprise, grabbing at the scar on his forehead.

"Harry, what is it?" Myra asked. He rubbed his scar, and turned back to her, smiling a little.

"Nothing. I'll be fine, Myra. Promise."

Myra raised an eyebrow, and the desserts disappeared. Dumbledore stood again, and Myra, Ron, and Harry all turned their attention back on him. The Great Hall fell utterly silent.

"Before we all head off to bed, I have a few start of term notices I wish to announce. First years must note that the forest on the grounds is strictly forbidden. To some of our older students, this is a reminder."

Myra noticed Dumbledore's eyes flicker to the twins, who grinned wickedly.

"I have also been asked to say that our caretaker, Mr. Filch, wishes to remind you all that the third floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who doesn't wish to die a most painful death. Also, he reminds you that there should be no use of magic in the corridors between classes."

Myra's eyebrow cocked again. Did he really just say something incredibly serious and life-threatening, and then follow it up with something as simple as no magic outside of class? He certainly needs a lesson on priorities, Myra thought.

"Now, before we leave, I ask that you all join me in our school song!"

Myra's eyes bulged. She had to sing? Oh no… she couldn't sing. At least, she thought she couldn't. Dumbledore's wand flicked and soon words were written above his head, casually floating in the air.

"Now pick your favorite tune, and sing along!"

Myra sorted through her head and decided the best thing to do would be to follow Percy. And the room began to sing:

_"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please!_

_Whether we be old and bald,_

_Or young with scabby knees._

_Our heads could do with filling_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff!_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot!"_

Myra really had to wonder if Dumbledore had written that himself. She noticed that everyone finished at different times. The only ones left were the Weasley twins, who sang at a pace so slow, their song could only be considered a funeral procession. Dumbledore didn't mind however, and used his wand as a conductor's baton as they finished. Everyone clapped when they were done, Myra, Harry and Ron laughing so hard they felt as though they would explode.

"Ah, music," Dumbledore sighed. "A magic beyond all we do here! Now, time for bed. Off you trot!"

Percy rounded up the Gryffindor first years and directed them towards the grand staircase. Myra, Harry, and Ron gathered together in the back and walked on.

As they walked, however, they were stopped abruptly outside the hall to the dormitory. There was a floating collection of walking sticks above the group, and suddenly they were being pelted at Percy.

"Peeves!" Percy shouted sternly. "Show yourself!"

A portly spirit with dark eyes and a wicked grin appeared out of thin air. Myra backed up.

"Ooh, Ickle Firsties! What fun!" the ghost said. He picked up another walking stick, preparing to throw it directly at Myra.

"Peeves!" Percy shouted again. Peeves lowered the stick, and Myra exhaled. "If you don't stop, I'll get the Baron. I swear I will!"

Peeves hissed at Percy, then flew off to bother someone else.

"Peeves is a poltergeist," Percy explained. "The Bloody Baron, the Slytherin ghost, is the only one who can control him. Ah, here we are."

They stopped again in front of a portrait of a rather large woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" the lady asked.

"Caput Draconis," Percy said fluidly. The Fat Lady smiled, and her portrait swung to the side, revealing an entrance to a warm room with maroon and gold décor. The common room, Myra guessed.

Percy directed the girls to their dormitory, and Myra left the boys, wishing them each a good night. They each gave her a high-five, and walked on.

Myra walked over to her trunk, seeing that it was situated on a comfortable four-poster bed. She pulled her pajamas on, and climbed into it, not quite able to fall asleep.

She suddenly felt weight on the end of the bed, and looked up. Hermione was sitting there, looking slightly bashful.

"Hi, Myra," she whispered.

"Hi, Hermione. What's wrong? You seem a bit put out."

Hermione looked at her. "Well, I wanted… I wanted to apologize for earlier on the train. I know I must have acted like a know-it-all."

"Well, yes, but you were excited. I can't blame you for wanting to be. Don't apologize for having talent and smarts." Myra reached over and patted her hand. "I'd really like to be your friend, Hermione. Maybe you can teach me a few things."

Hermione smiled widely. "Really?"

Myra answered her smile. "Of course."

Hermione took her hand. "Thank you, Myra. Really." With that, she jumped off of Myra's bed and into her own.

Myra smiled to herself. She thought Hermione wasn't all that bad. She was really smart and nice, and seemed to really want to be her friend. Myra never made a lot of friends.

Myra smiled as she drifted to sleep…

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"Myra, wake up, sweetie!"

Myra jumped out of bed onto the floor. She ran to her mirror at once, looking herself over, then realized… she was in her bedroom.

She looked out of the window, and saw the streets of Chicago.

She really had dreamt it all…

Then why did it seem so real?

**A/N:** Hope you guys enjoyed this new installment. There will be a ton more, trust me. It ain't even close to over. Please review!

**A/N:** "Hogwarts Song" and "The Sorting Hat Song" both belong to J.K. Rowling. Also, I know that the introduction of Sir Nicholas was from the movie, and this I book era, but to be totally honest… I prefer the movie one better. Also, if anyone can tell me… did I get the Patil twins right? Parvarti s a Gryffindor and Padma is a Ravenclaw, right? If I'm wrong, two things: Damn my stupid brain!, and please alert me. I can fix it quicker than a Reparo spell can fix a broken teapot (though I fail to see where it has relevance).


	4. Classes and Hagrid's Hut

**A/N: I'M BACK! I'm really sorry I haven't worked on this in a while, guys. Summer slips by so fast, I'm telling' ya. And I have been neglecting all my stories except Dapper… :( Anyway, I've been trying to put the rest of this down on here for weeks, and now that I've planned out a writing schedule for myself (which I plan to post on my profile) you'll be seeing a lot more of me. Hope this makes up for lost time!**

Myra looked out the window, into the rain. Her tears seemed to match it. She'd spent all day in her room, upset at how she'd lost two of the only good friends she'd ever known.

A knock came at the door.

"Myra?" her mother called. "It's time for bed, sweetie."

Myra just sighed in response.

"What's the matter, Maryanne? You haven't smiled or even come out of your room all day. Are you sick, baby?"

Myra shook her head.

"Do you want me to read Har-"

"No."

Wendy frowned. "Well, then get to sleep, okay? I love you, baby."

Myra distantly felt her mother kiss her head, and heard her walk out. She slipped off her stool and went to the bed, curling into herself. She wished she could repeat her dream, she really did. Her little salt-water droplets fell with their own individual "plop!" onto her pillow. She closed her eyes and let her shuddering breaths and streaming tears put her to sleep…

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"Myra? Myra, wake up!"

Myra turned, and saw not her mother's smiling face. She saw bushy brown hair, bright eyes, and two large front teeth…

"Her-Hermione?"

"Good morning, sleepy! You'd better get up and get dressed. We have to head down to breakfast!"

Hermione walked out, turning once back to Myra on her way out of the dormitory. "I'll wait for you in the common room!"

Myra rubbed her eyes. She looked about herself, seeing the huge trunk at the foot of an oddly familiar four-poster bed, the robes that were hung on a hook next to her. They now bore an intricate patch. Myra stood and reached for them, moving some of the soft black fabric aside to reveal a maroon and gold pattern. In the center was a lion, and at the bottom was the word "Gryffindor."

Myra smiled hugely. Her dream was back!

She remembered that Hermione was waiting for her, and dressed quickly. She pulled a comb through her hair, brushed her teeth, and literally skipped to the common room, her Gryffindor tie swinging madly. Hermione smiled at the cheerful look on her friend's face, and they hooked arms and walked to breakfast together.

As Myra pushed open the doors to the Great Hall, the smell of delicious foods like bacon and pancakes filled her nose. She sighed hugely, and walked briskly to the Gryffindor table.

"Hey, Myra!" she heard from her left. She turned… and saw a specky boy with happy green eyes and insane black hair.

"Harry!" she shouted, running to the seat next to his. Hermione had taken a seat near to Percy, and started speaking avidly to him about their schedules and where the classrooms were. Ron, still looking slightly tired and with his tie more than a little askew, was gnawing at a huge breakfast sausage like he was some sort of bear. Myra just smiled at him in utter pleasure, and reached across the table to straighten his tie a bit. She then started to pile some potatoes and bacon onto her plate. Harry, smearing marmalade onto his toast, studied Myra.

She seemed different. He didn't know how to explain it but she seemed… really happy, for no apparent reason. He shrugged it off and continued to eat.

Myra smiled, thinking of the prospects of the day ahead.

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So, the days went on. Myra would wake up and go to school in her world, thinking of Harry and Hogwarts, reminding herself it was only a dream, and would be met with it again once she had closed her eyes and fallen asleep. After a while, she started to shrug it off. She merely thought her mind had come around to fall into it's own sort of pattern.

Her mother still read Harry Potter to her, but she felt she didn't need the reading. She was practically living it!

By the end of the week, she had begun all her classes and was familiar with all her teachers. Professor Sprout, the Herbology professor, was a stout woman that smelt of dirt and had soil caked under her nails. Myra enjoyed her lessons, and Professor Sprout was most impressed with the girl's interest in plants and fungi.

Then there was History of Magic. Professor Binns was the only ghost professor, and his story was that he had been very old, fell asleep in front of a fireplace, and then got up to teach later on, leaving his own body behind. It seemed even death couldn't keep him from his job, and his exciting appearance as a ghost still wasn't enough to keep him from being the most boring teacher in the world. He would drone on and on about almost absolutely nothing, and would continue it even after the bell had already rung.

Another teacher was Professor Flitwick, a tiny little man who couldn't see over his desk without a stack of books under his feet. He taught Charms, and even though he was a teacher, he fell over as he read Harry's name off of his roll call list. It seemed even adult wizards could still be surprised.

As it turned out, Professor McGonagall was the Transfiguration professor. She had given a quick quip about how things worked in her classroom, turned her desk into a pig, and then back again. People had become excited and wanted to transform things like that as well, but all they had gotten was intense notes and a match, which they were to turn into a needle. Only Hermione and Myra seemed to be able to do so. Myra's was a little longer than Hermione's but it was enough to make McGonagall smile at both of them and award Gryffindor ten points. Myra already liked her.

The class everyone but Myra really seemed to look forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Professor Quirrell, who wore a large purple turban atop his head, was more than a bit of a joke. His room was adorned with garlic, and he couldn't stop stuttering throughout the lesson.

Finally, Friday came around, and Myra woke with a start after having fallen asleep to the sound of a car backfiring in the middle of her street at home in Chicago. She dressed and walked down to breakfast with Harry, not getting lost once for the first time in a week. Ron was already halfway through his food when they sat down.

"One wonders why you two are always together," Ron muttered, a sly smile forming around the half-masticated food product rolling around in his full mouth.

Myra blushed as Harry said "Shut it, you git."

"What have we got today?" Myra asked Ron, popping a piece of cubed melon into her mouth.

"Double potions with the Slytherins. Professor Snape is head of Slytherin house, and he favors them above everyone else."

"Well, that's unfortunate," Harry said, swallowing his oatmeal.

"Wish McGonagall favored us," Myra said. Harry and Ron stared at her with wide eyes.

"Are you kidding?" Ron asked, his food practically falling out of his mouth.

"She adores you!" Harry said. Myra blushed deeply again, looking down at the food on her plate.

Suddenly, owls started flying through the upper windows of the Great Hall, and Myra spotted Hedwig, bright white amongst a sea of gray, black, and brown.

"Hey Harry, Hedwig's here," she said, just as the beautiful bird landed in front of him and nibbled on a piece of toast on his plate. As soon as Harry untied the letter from around her leg, she spotted Myra and hopped onto her shoulder. Myra had quickly become Hedwig's favorite person next to Harry, and being the intelligent animal she was, could tell that Harry felt the same way about the girl, too.

Once Hedwig began nipping at her ear, however, a large barn owl flew down upon them. It stopped in front of Myra's plate, and stuck out it's leg. There was a simple white letter attached. She untied it, and the bird flew off with a small bit of sausage in it's beak. Myra unfolded the white envelope as Harry called to Hedwig, tied another note to her leg, and sent her off.

Myra,

How have your first few days at school been? I hope you're enjoying yourself! I miss you so much here, and a lot of your old teachers have been getting on my case about why you aren't there. I received an owl from the head of Gryffindor (Congratulations, by the way, darling! So proud of you! Your father was a Gryffindor too, you know.) She was a very pleasant woman… a Professor McGonagall, was it? She said you were an excellent addition to Gryffindor, and that she was pleased to see that you gained your father's knowledge.

Your friends have been asking for you. Should I tell them you've been out? Would you like to write them a letter? Anything you would like, dear, let me know if I can help.

Write back soon. I love and miss you, sweetheart!

Love,

Mum

Myra smiled at the letter, shoving it into a pocket in her robes. She would have to write back later, as the Great Hall was clearing, and she didn't want to be late to class.

"Hagrid's asked me to have tea with him," Harry said to her and Ron as they walked to the dungeons. "Would you two like to come?"

"Sure!" Myra said as Ron nodded. At least now they had something to look forward to.

Professor Snape was by far the worst professor at Hogwarts. It's not as though he treated Myra with disrespect, but the way he kept scrutinizing Ron in that horrid manner made her blood boil. She despised how he would constantly ask Harry questions he didn't know the answer to. Hermione's hand would be raised so high in the air it looked as though she were reaching towards the sun, but Snape would ignore her and keep embarrassing Harry. When Harry finally gave up and snapped back at him, however, a point was deducted from Gryffindor. Myra reached over to Harry's wrist and gripped it. Harry now took this as a sign to control himself, and he took it greatly. She was right. He needed to calm down.

Throughout the whole class, in fact, it seemed as though Myra's firm hold was constantly on Harry's wrist, because throughout the lesson, Snape did nothing but torment Harry and make him look like an arrogant fool. When Neville Longbottom's face broke out in boils from a wrong addition of porcupine quills to his potion, Snape blamed it on Harry, saying he wanted to look good for not helping him, and deducted yet another point. Harry was flaming.

Myra and Hermione worked on their potion together as Ron and Harry worked on their's. Hermione knew exactly what to do, and Myra listened to everything Hermione had to say. If she was going to pass this class, she would need guidance from the smartest person in it.

When they left, Snape reluctantly gave them good marks, and deducted another point for Harry and Ron's concoction. Apparently, it looked nothing like what it should have.

"I don't get it," Harry muttered on their way out of the dungeons, loving the feeling of sun warming his face after two hours in the dark. "Why does he hate me so much?"

"I doubt that he hates you," Myra said. "He barely knows you."

Harry shrugged, frowning, and Myra wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders.

At five to three, they left for Hagrid's, Harry a bit happier than he had been earlier. He knocked tentatively on the door of the tiny hut that sat in the grounds, and they heard a loud barking, a scuffling, and a loud voice muttering "Back, Fang!"

The scraggly beard and wide happy face of Hagrid answered the door.

"Hello, Harry. Come on in. Back, Fang. Now!"

They entered, and noticed that Hagrid was keeping his hold on a large black boarhound, most likely Fang. Myra had always loved dogs. She got down on her knees, scratching the large dog behind the ears. He leaned into her hand affectionately, yawning.

"He's really takin' ter ya," Hagrid said, smiling down at Myra.

"Yeah, animals really seem to like her. Oh, I almost forgot!" Harry said. "Hagrid, this is Myra Selby and Ron Weasley."

"Another Weasley?" he asked, looking Ron up and down. Ron's ears went pink. "I've spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

Myra sat down at the round wooden table in the center of the small hut, taking a pastry that looked very similar to a rock off of the plate in the middle. She bit it, and found it had the consistency of a rock as well. She set it down in front of her, reaching instead for her cup of tea, which was overly sweet and had a hint of berries. Setting that down as well, she sank down to the floor, sitting cross-legged. Fang came bounding towards her, and as Hagrid and the boys sat and talked, Myra scratched Fang behind his huge ears, smiling as he licked her hand or nudged her cheek with his nose.

After about 20 minutes, Harry came over to Myra's side, a perplexed look on his face. He held a piece of paper in his hand.

"Harry, what's up?" Myra asked as Harry sat down beside her. Fang licked Harry's empty hand.

"Look at this," he whispered, and Myra took the paper. It was a clipping from the Daily Prophet.

**GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**

Investigations continue into the break-in at

Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the

work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.

Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing

had been taken. The vault that was searched had in

fact been emptied the same day.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so

keep your noses out if you know what's good

for you," said a Gringotts spokes goblin this afternoon.

Myra read through the small article again. She handed it back to Harry, shaking her head. "Why is this so important, Harry?"

"Because," Harry said, dropping his voice lower. "Hagrid and I were there the same day getting something out of the same vault. The only thing in there was the package Hagrid got for Professor Dumbledore."

Myra gave him a quizzical look, and he jumped up and over to Hagrid, practically shoving the article in his face. "Hagrid! That Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! Do you think it happened while we were there?"

Hagrid grunted in response, turning back to Ron. Harry sighed, and sat down next to Myra again. "But how could it have been?" he mumbled to himself. "I was there. It wouldn't have been that hard to notice… would it?"

Myra shrugged, rubbing soothing circles into Harry's back, just like her mom did for her when she was stressed. Harry smiled at her, before taking another rock cake and bouncing it on the floor like a basketball.

O

O

O

O

That night, before she went to bed (and went back to Chicago), Myra thought about what Harry had been talking about in Hagrid's hut. He seemed a bit preoccupied over it at dinner as well. Myra shrugged it off and laid down on her bed, and as her eyes shut, early morning Saturday sunshine streamed through her eyelids in the little apartment she lived in in Chicago.

**A/N: Well, that took less tie to finish than I thought. I only had two pages left of story to write… huh. Anyway, hope this was enjoyed. I have a new story up called "New York Can Change You", and it's interactive. There's a poll on my profile where you can vote for what happens next in the story. Gonna be pretty cool. Vote while you can! New update on Sunday. Oh, and leave me some reviews please. I need to hear some feedback on how I'm doing. :)**


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